


A Parker Problem (That Includes Alien Symbiosis As Well?)

by venomparker



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Flash is a dick, Hurt No Comfort, Hurt Peter Parker, Michelle is confused but, Oh also, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Peter is just confused, Post Spider-Man Homecoming, Pre-Infinity War, Protective Tony Stark, Sick Peter Parker, Tags are hard what, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Venom fucks things up, because fuck infinity war, ned is just worried, really bad, she knows something’s up, so are other classmates, sort of??, there’s blood and all that
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-28
Updated: 2018-08-04
Packaged: 2019-05-14 16:31:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 13,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14773172
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/venomparker/pseuds/venomparker
Summary: Radioactive spiders? Crime-lords with mechanical wings? After all that, Peter probably should have seen something like this coming. That doesn’t mean he’s not freaking the fuck out.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first work on this website! Not much to say other than I’ll update when I can.

“Watch it!” 

The woman grumbled, getting up from the sidewalk. “Damn kids. Just what I needed. Rips in my tights! Screw you!”

She swore once more in the direction of the group of teens that plowed past her and turned her heel on the concrete. With a scowl twisted on her lips, the tips of her heels echoed along the dimly lightened street. Only one lamp illuminated the right of the narrow path, a pale yellow in a feeble attempt to lighten. Her knees twinged once more, her tights scrapping against the newly forming bruises and cuts. She felt the tinniest bit of blood stream down her leg with a few other shallower nicks. It had to be around twelve in the morning. The moon lit some of the alleys she passed, but most just sucked in the light.

She tucked her hair behind her ear roughly, her bangs still hanging loosely ahead of her eyes. One alley way loomed before her, the only light from the moon. Her pace quickened and her heels clicked feebly ahead. The grip on her bag tightened. The street lights were behind her now. It was skinny and lengthy with a few divots in the sides for garbage and some doors. 

“Really?” She muttered weakly. The sound of her shoes grew in volume as she processed forward. The little hustle of traffic and shuffle of people from the street behind muted. She squinted and bit the inside of her cheek the farther she got. There was no light now. Only a dim flicker of a street lamp ahead. She could see nothing in front of her, or where she was placing her feet to walk. She took a shuttered breath while licking her bottom lip. 

“Come on...” 

A crack split through the silent night. It sounded so close. Her body twitched; A breath caught in her throat. A squelching sounded around her. Her back burned. The hair on the back of her neck rose. She gripped the strap of her bag with a strength that made her knuckles go white. Her eyes met the corner of her vision, seeing white trash bags and one with a rip in it, leaking something she couldn’t decipher. Her eyes felt impossibly wide and sweat trickled down her temple. The sound of some sort of liquid reached her ears. It was nothing she’d ever heard on the streets before. It sounded as if something was wrapping itself around cans and empty glass bottles, but that couldn’t be true. Liquid couldn’t move on it’s own accord. 

“Just take the purse. I have some money and a few... coupons?” 

It just grew in volume. She was in the middle of the alley. She couldn’t just make a break for it in her shoes. Her knees wobbled slightly and she began to turn around. 

“I don’t want any trouble. I just need to get home. You know? Long days, right?” Her shoulder was facing sideways now. “I really just need to get home.” She twisted her legs around. She was expecting a man in a black mask with a gun. Maybe a knife? She wasn’t expecting nothing. There was nothing there. No man standing. She leered around. Nothing. She let out a huff and let her grip on her bag relax. 

Another sound cracked in the air. Much louder. It sounded like some kid was smashing some bottles for fun. That she saw all the time. She whipped around, but there was no kid. No one. Okay. This isn’t normal. Let’s go.

She laced her fingers around her bag once again and lifted her foot to begin walking down the alley. She didn’t move. Her foot stuck in place. Her heel didn’t even budge. Her breath shook. Something was wrapping around her ankles. Something wet. It was trailing around her like some sort of vine. She snaked her hand into her purse and flailed around to find her phone. Flashlight. Flashlight. Come on!

Her fingers gripped her phone. She ripped it out of her purse and turned on the flashlight as her thumb shook and barely touched the buttons. The light twitched on. She began to lower her arm to below her. It shook and icy shock climbed its way from her shoulders to her toes the more she lowered it. Something was there. Something. Something.

It was black. It shined along with the white light of the flash, glistening like some sort of gloss. It was moving. The liquid was moving. Up her leg. It was almost up her knee now. Liquid wasn’t supposed to move up. It looked to be made up of smaller vine like parts, gripping and latching higher and higher. It was tightening around her legs. Too tight. 

“Help! Please! Please! Someone!”

It wasn’t stopping. She couldn’t even feel her ankles anymore. It was latched on so tightly that she was sure her feet where broken. There’s no way they weren’t. 

“Please!”

It reached her midsection. It gripped onto the loose end of her shirt and pulled with impossible strength. It was going inside and outside her shirt. She felt it rise higher and higher. Impossibly high. 

Help. Help. Help. 

It snaked back up from her shirt and crawled up her neck. It seemed to break up and wrap itself around the back. It was surrounding her throat. Her breath caught. She couldn’t breathe. It tightened around her throat. Her mouth opened hopelessly as a pitched, whistle like sound escaped her. 

No. No. No.

It didn’t stop. The wet feeling reached her finger tips and her phone slipped from her hand. The flashlight fell with the light facing up. She could only see it now. It was dark. It was glossy. It was disgusting. It covered her shoulders now. She tried to move. It wasn’t even worth trying.

It began latching onto her bottom lip. God. It pulled onto anything it could. She tried to scream, but it latched onto her teeth. She felt it crawl along her tongue. She gagged and her eyes felt impossibly wide as they leaked clear tears along her cheek. Was it even her cheek? It slithered down her throat. It pulled onto her eyelashes and then it was all black. She couldn’t see anything. She couldn’t feel anything. Only black. Only it. 

You’ll do. For now.

She knew no more.


	2. Chapter Two

“Eight eyes? No. No, I don’t think I have eight eyes. I don’t think it works that way, Ned.”

“How could you know? Like, really know. Maybe you do have eight eyes, but they’re really tiny. Like a spiders eyes. I bet you haven’t checked the back of your head. Oh gosh, do you have eyes on the back of your head?”

Peter let his chest rise in a chuckle. “I think I’d know if I could suddenly see Flash glaring at me from behind in Chemistry, right?”

“You really would never know. One day, I guess.” Ned went back to his paper with a slight awed look.

One week after the whole Homecoming Fiasco, many things seemed to happen all at once. May found out. That could have went better, in anyone’s opinion really.

_Peter stood, facing his bed. The suit felt so secure, latching onto all the crooks in his body and the divots between his fingers. He flexed his fingers and let out a little laugh. Finally. At once, Peter felt the back of his neck burn and his hair rise._

_“What the fuck?”_

_No. No. Wait._

_“It’s- it’s just-“_

_“What the hell? What is this? You’re-“_

_“I’m not! I’m really not! It’s just- this is just-“_

_May stepped into the doorway with her head cocked to the side. “You’re telling me this is just some costume? That this- this is just some weird coincidence that suddenly makes so much sense, know that I think about it. How-“_

_“Please! It’s really not what you think!”_

_“Listen to me! You weren’t in Washington. I knew that. I really thought- really- that you were just going into some sort of phase. A rebellious stage, maybe? But this-this is just too-“_

_“I- May, please! I never- I never did anything to-to hurt you or anything! It’s just how some things happened!”_

_May chewed on her bottom lip. “The ferry. That Spider-Man was there. You were gone all day. You didn’t even come home in your own clothes. Was that- was that you? Could you have died and I would have sat here, calling all your friends and worrying my ass off? Could I have never seen you again? After everything-“_

_Peter took a step forward. It felt like a brick just sunk to the bottom of his stomach. This wasn’t how it was supposed to happen._

_“May, you know I would never do anything just to make you worry. This city, it needs someone to help! The avengers don’t even blink at this sort of stuff!”_

_“Oh, so you know what the avengers think now? What the hell have I missed, Peter? How could I have not noticed? How?”_

_“It’s not you, May! I should have told you. I promise! It’s just-just that something could have happened to you. If anything happened to you, what would I have left? May, please! I’m sorry for keeping this-this Spider-Man stuff from you, but please don’t think you did something wrong. It’s for the people!”_

_“How could this be your job? You’re a kid! Fifteen! You could have died! Do you understand! You-could-have-died!”_

_“It’s what I need to do! If I don’t use what I-what I have then how could I live knowing I could have done something, but did nothing? It would be my fault. I can’t let that happen, not again.”_

_May stepped back a little. “Okay. Okay. We will talk about this. I don’t- just let me think about this. Just-“ She huffed out a breath from her nose and turned around and headed to her room. There was a faint shut of a door and then it was too quiet._

_Peter grabbed the door and pushed it shut with a small thud. “God damnit. Shit.” He put it back against the door and shoved his palms in his eyes. The guilt in his chest grew only larger the longer he stood, his back still supported by the door behind him. Peter removed his palms and stared down at his hands with a small huff. Why did it have to go down like that? Why didn’t he close the damn door?_

_“Dumbass.”_

Liz was gone. After talking down her dad, who was actually the leader of an illegal weapons making thing, her and her mom moved to Oregon. He and Liz had one conversation before she left, and it only made Peter feel so much worse. Ned tried telling him Liz would be fine and that she still had her mom. At least her dad’s not like, _dead_ , Ned had whispered in a hushed tone while Peter unlocked his locker.

“Thanks, Ned.” Peter rolled his eyes and shut it closed. “Her dad could have _died_. How could I live with that?”

Ned followed behind him as Peter stalked off to class down the hall. “He’s alive, Peter. I mean, he’s going to jail for thirty years but they get, you know, phone calls-“

“Wow,” Peter huffed. He knew Toomes needed to be taken down. He tried to kill him. Twice. Even after knowing he was in the same school as his daughter. After Peter saved Liz’s life. Now I just sound like I’m bragging. Someone like that didn’t have morals. Toomes had tried to explain he was doing it for his family, but what if Liz got hurt from his business? His logic didn’t make sense to Peter, but honestly, did any criminal’s logic make sense in the long run?

“Listen, if Liz’s dad actually cared, he would have made money with an actual job, not selling illegal alien weapons. You didn’t cause this. He did, right? You just busted him. If you didn’t, who would? So many people could have died, Peter! You did the right thing.”

Peter let out a long breath through his nose. Ned was right. “Yeah. Yeah, you’re right. Thanks, Ned.” Peter smiled, glancing to his right.

“No problem,” Ned chirped, satisfied. Peter looked down at his feet while he and Ned walked to second period, surrounded by other students in a sort of fast pace.

“Come on. We’re gunna be late,” Peter said after checking his watch below all his books that were resting in his arms. Both quickened their stance and reached Algebra, maybe out of breath? At least Ned was. This would be a boring day.

-

An echoing screech rang out, at least ten times it’s usual volume. Peter closed his eyes, waves of pain flashing along his head. He didn’t really think he would ever get used to such loud sounds. Peter rose out of his chair, stretching his legs slightly. It was time for lunch-so around eleven- Peter assessed without glancing around to the clock behind him. Ned didn’t have health with him, so he would just go down to lunch, like always, and meet up with him there.

“Parker!” Peter twitched his head to the side, and pretended not to hear. “Hey! Penis!”

Peter bit his lip and grabbed the last of his books and pencils off his desk. “What, Flash?” Peter asked in a condescending way while moving his feet to exit the class through the narrow doorway. He heard Flash chuckle slightly from behind him.

“Are you showing for decathlon after school?” Flash asked behind him. To anyone else, the question wouldn’t seem rude. He rang his voice a little louder than usual, which is what he always did when he was about to try and embarrass Peter.

Peter actually thought about it. Mr. Stark wouldn’t need him just yet. It was too soon after he rejected his offer of being an avenger. It wasn’t an ignored silence, but more of a satisfied one. Like a fight had been resolved. After school, he wouldn’t want to stay out all afternoon and worry May. Especially after the conversation the previous day. He’d call her and tell her he went to practice, not anything life threatening. If she answers.

“Yeah. Yeah, I think so,” Peter answered Flash without even turning around. Before Flash could even think of a retort, he left the class and disappeared within the flow of kids getting to their class or lunch. When Peter reached the lunch room, Ned was already sat down. He seemed to be in a conversation with Michelle, but she just nodded a few times while Ned’s mouth moved on and on. He walked over and set his books beside his seat and relaxed into his chair.

“Obviously, Thor would win. There’s just no debate, MJ!” Ned exclaimed beside him.

“Whatever. I’m just saying the hulk could just step on him. That’s all,” Michelle said, a slight smirk lining her lips. “If Thor really wanted to lay one out, he probably could. Thinking of the mere size of them both, the hulk would win. Hands down.”

Michelle had gotten a lot more comfortable around them and the whole team in general after being appointed the team captain after Liz left the state. She seemed to be more interested in other things besides her books. She was still strange and said some weird things, but all and all, Peter and Ned enjoyed her company.

“Peter!” Ned jumped, noticing he was there. “What do you think? An epic battle between The Green, Angry Hulk and the All Mighty Thor. Who’d win?” Michelle and Ned both stared at him expectingly.

“Thor?” Peter squeaked. Michelle rose her brows. “Hulk! Yeah. Actually-“

“Dude, just stop. Don’t need to pick sides based on which friend you don’t feel like betraying today.” Michelle said, but she had on a smile. Peter blinked and smiled, too. She seemed so much happier when she had friends.

Ned tapped his shoulder. “Let’s get lunch.”

They both got up and went through the lunch line together. Michelle packed her lunch most of the time, and usually just read and ate in between pages. After getting whatever the school was selling that day, they made their way back to their seats. Ned grabbed his fork and started on his green beans.

“Hey,” He hushed so Michelle couldn’t hear, “What happened with May? Did she kill the whole Spider-Man thing?”

Peter dropped his milk with a startle. “Shh!” Michelle swerved her eyes to them both, mildly annoyed. “We really need a code word, huh?” Peter said faintly, looking at passing freshmen.

“I guess. Spider-Man,” Ned said, barely audible, “really is kinda obvious. Maybe Spidey? Too obvious. Whatever. It can be a ‘you-know-who’ kinda thing.”

“Just don’t say it around here. The last thing I need is Flash hearing Spider-Man coming out of my mouth. Not after that party. Even though I had a perfectly valid reason for not staying,” He added. “Anyway, May looked like she wanted to kill me. She yelled for a while.”

“Damn,” Ned cursed, stabbing a pineapple with his fork. “Is it okay now?”

Peter looked up from his tray. “I haven’t really had a full conversation with her about it yet. She just told me to let her think. You know how she is. I’m screwed.”

Michelle drooped her book below her nose and peered over. “What’d you do now?”

Peter grumbled slightly. “My aunt, May. We had a fight.”

“Oh. I’ve never met your aunt. Maybe I’ll come over with Ned one day,” Michelle said.

Peter rose his brows. Michelle had never shown any interest in anything that had to do with Peter before. It was kind of.. nice? He had never really had any other friends besides Ned his whole life. He bet Ned didn’t either. “Ned’s coming over tomorrow after school. Could you come then? May could probably like you.”

“Probably?” Michelle smirked. She shifted her book and nodded. “Yeah, I’ll go.” She started to read again. Ned looked over to Peter.

“I’m going to your house tomorrow?” Ned asked. “Fine by me.” He finished his last bite and pushed the empty tray farther away from him. Peter looked down and saw he hadn’t even touched his food. It didn’t look appetizing at all. Peter got up to throw his tray away with Ned following close behind.

“You didn’t eat?” Ned glanced at his tray as they walked. “Don’t you need to? With the whole metabolism thing? I really wouldn’t play with luck like that. You never know what might happen.”

“I don’t think I’ll shrivel up, Ned. I’m just not hungry. I’m-I’m just thinking about May. I’m going to practice after school, so she won’t see me will around four. I guess New York can last one day without me,” Peter whispered. “If I’m not back, who knows what she might think. I can’t do that to her.”

“Yeah,” Ned agreed solemnly, dumping their trays into the trash. Walking back, Peter saw Michelle’s book was sat face down on the table before her. She had her phone in her hand and seemed to scroll past and read. When Ned and Peter sat back down, she turned the phone to them.

“Look.” It was a news article about a missing woman. There was a photo of her off to the side. She was pretty, with soft brown eyes and brown bangs that hung over her face. Peter read the article below.

_The belongings of Jennifer Jones were found along an alley by third street. Witnesses say they saw her go into the alley, but never saw her return. Police on the scene say there was a phone laying cracked on the cement, along with silver purse with identification inside. She is known for her work at Stark Industries-_

“Mr. Stark? Would he know her?” Peter asked almost to himself.

“Maybe. Ask him when you can, if he decides to talk to you again,” Ned huffed in a slight laugh. Michelle furrowed her brows, but nodded to tell them to keep reading.

_Jennifer is presumed only missing at this time. Other witnesses say they heard screams around one in the morning. If anyone has any information, call -“_

“That’s really close to here,” Ned said, his eyes a little wide. He read on a little more and paused. “What do you think happened?”

Michelle locker her phone and set it down. “I’m not sure. It’s headline news, though. If they find her, it’ll be a damn miracle. Most missing people never come back.”

Peter licked his lips. If May never found out, would he have been patrolling at that time? Could he have stopped this? Her face was still fresh in his mind. Jennifer, was it? “Maybe she just ran away?” Peter said feebly.

“At twenty-six? What twenty-six year old runs away?” Michelle scoffed, bringing her book back up to her nose bridge.

“Just some positivity,” Peter added. “She’s probably okay. Most likely. I think.”

Ned tapped his fingers on the table. “She didn’t even get mugged. Her purse was on the ground. Whoever got her only wanted her. Kinda strange, huh?”

Peter felt a shiver down his spine. “Yeah. Strange.”


	3. Chapter Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter is definitely ‘not’ freaking out.

Taking the subway was efficient, though Peter still needed to walk a ways before getting to the apartment complex. Getting there took some walking and crossing streets in a hope he didn’t get hit. He could easily jump out of the way, of course, but just the thought of him hurtling ten feet in the air on a public street made his head spin.

“Like I was saying. Don’t overreact, but don’t under react. She’ll think you’re not taking it seriously. Overreacting will freak her out and we all know you’ll freak out if she does. Just do what comes naturally.”

“What—freak out?” Peter huffed. Every step took a lot more effort than he remembered. “Feels like I’m walking death row. You don’t think she’ll kill me, right? Right?”

“Let’s—let’s just find out,” Ned laughed stiffly. Peter shot him a pleading look. Mindless chatter passed around him, shuffling past. Someone was going through something worse. Someone was getting the worst news of their life. Somewhere, that missing girl was scared and alone and he’s worrying about his aunt scolding him. Shaky breaths racked through him. He could do this.

He could—

Peter shuffled to a halt.

Why did he feel a leering stare on the back of his neck? The hairs practically burned and it took all he had not to turn back with his webs up, already jumping on the nearest building. Seconds passed. It was still there, his neck scorching. The grip on his backpack strap tightened to where his knuckles paled. His senses were _screaming_ at him. Begging to get out. Ned’s continuous advice was in muted ears.

Peter quickened his pace, bumping into people along his hastily planned path. Why wouldn’t it do away? Who was watching him? He could feel his ears burning crimson. He needed to look back. He made it a good ten feet before realizing it wasn’t going. It was following him.

Peter, against his own judgement, finally swung around. Faces blurred past, none lingering on him for more than a blink. None stopping when he stopped, and no blaring signs he was being watched. Frantically, he searched. No one. Not even Ned.

“Hello?”

Peter’s insides lurched. His neck was on fire. There was no way it wasn’t being branded with some sort of heated metal. His senses warned him to the extent of his head pulsing in and out, pounding in his ears. He could hear the blood traveling around in his head. His palms were drenched in sweat.

“ _You’re... **different.”**_

Peter twitched back around. The voice was coming from nowhere, but all around him. The faces around him disappeared. Just vanished into thin air. The street was vacant. He tried to not panic. He really did, but the second hundreds of people just pop out of sight, is when Peter decides to make a break for it. His legs lifted into a sprint. Well, they tried.

Suspended in the air, one leg got caught in something. He yelped, lurching forewords. His palms slammed into the cement. His hair covered some of his vision while he caught his breath, his face just hovering above the gravel.

“ _I_ _need someone like you. Strong. Powerful_ ,” It said. “ _This Woman. She’s plain. She’s human. There is something about your smell, Peter Parker. Something. Just wait your turn. We will be stronger together.”_

“Dude!”

That wasn’t the haunted slither he had gotten used to. It was a boy’s voice.

“You’re so dead- Peter!”

With a sudden shake, the world around him melted into a smear of colors. Something was wrong, though. The colors of the sky, the buildings and the billboards. They were muted. The colors were dull. Strange, was what Peter thought as his world slipped from beneath him.

“Peter.”

Peter jolted back into the real world, sudden and quick. His surroundings didn’t match the one he was just at—loud and hustling. He was in the library, kids surfing down the aisles and girls giggling in the back corner. No more busy street. No more voice.

“You’re not high, are you?”

Peter groaned into his palms. His fingertips traced his eyelids. Why did he feel so shit? “High? No—why would I be high?” Everything wasn’t working right. His voice. His eyes. Peter blinked at his hands. They were trembling. They thumped against the wooden table below him lightly. He stared.

“He’s high on something, that’s what.”

Peter laced his thumbs together in an effort to stop the tremors. “I’m not high, Flash. I’m just—I’m fine.” Cold air danced along his forearms, trickling down into his fingertips. Why was it so freezing in here? Peter wrapped his arms, engulfing himself and sinking deeper into the back of the creaky, wooden chair he suddenly woke up in.

How did I get here?

The question irked him. Why would he need to ask something like that? Especially in the damn school library. No matter how hard he tried to retrace and retrace again, he never remembered walking in through those security detectors near the front walk-in. Decathlon practice. Flash lounged at the head of the table, while Ned and Michelle spoke in hushed conversation he could have heard if there wasn’t a constant ringing behind his ears. Michelle cut Ned off with a small wave, leering at Peter.

“You okay? You look like death,” Michelle announced. Blunt. Ned mouthed Wow.

“What she’s trying to say,” Ned intervened, “is that we are worried.” He looked at Michelle expectingly. She blinked, but cleared her throat.

“Yeah. We are both worried. I mean, look at you. Have you seen yourself?” Michelle pitched in. She wasn’t the sentimental, everyone knew that. Though, Peter couldn’t help being touched at the feeble attempt.

“No—no, actually I haven’t,” Peter said. He tightened the grip on his forearms. Should he tell them? Telling would worry Ned, but just confuse Michelle. Ned would think it’s some alien spider sickness, while Michelle would go the druggie route.

“Can you tell us what’s wrong?” Ned pried, surveying so Flash couldn’t overhear. Michelle leaned in slightly.

Peter took a deep breath. “I—I don’t remember getting here.” He paused to look. They both furrowed their brows. “It’s just—I can’t remember. I was walking home with Ned. I was going to talk to May, but I’m here now. I—I don’t understand.”

Michelle scrunched her brows together. “That’s—“

“That’d be it for today. Pack up your things.”

The incoherent rumble that followed was distant to Peter’s ears. Somehow muffled. Michelle and Ned hadn’t moved. Ned seemed to be shuffling forwards; his eyes showing more white than normal. They’re just confused. We shouldn’t tell them anymore.

We?

“W—“ Peter cleared his throat. “I should get going. May must be worried.” He stuffed his books into his bag, mildly wondering when he had taken them about in the first place.

“Peter...” Ned began, slowly. “You’re wearing your clothes from yesterday. Did you even go home?”

_Yesterday. Yesterday._

_What happened yesterday?_

_**Show us.** _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also it just crossed my mind. I don’t have these Beta read?? I’m not sure but I think that means checking for mistakes. 
> 
> Well, Peter is starting to worry. Don’t worry, you’ll get filled in. Right now, you’re probably just as confused as Peter.


	4. Chapter Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter gets filled in.

**_You want to know what happened?_ **

**_We’ll show us._ **

Peter stuffed his hands down his pockets in an effort to stop the shaking he couldn’t seem to stop. He’d been counting the blocks, his heels slamming into the pavement all the while ramming his shoulders into people all around him. One block until his apartment complex. Peter couldn’t remember when he last dreaded coming home. He could already hear May’s speech. His stomach did it’s tenth flip.

Would she let him be Spider-Man? If she took the suit, he honestly wouldn’t know what to do. Sneaking out every night in his old sweatshirt and pants never seemed less of a good course of action. She’s up her security, no doubt. He broke her trust. His chest dipped under a sudden weight. He’d never felt so guilty.

He had to do it. After everything that happened- Peter let out a breath, all his anxieties resting in the pit in his stomach.

Half a block left.

He turned and twisted, knowing every path and walkway. His lip ached; his teeth tugged at it. His hoodie weighed him down in ways he couldn’t even explain. May had bought him this hoodie. Ned hadn’t helped. Not much, at least. Ned- where was Ned?

Peter twisted around, expecting to see Ned hanging loosely behind him. He wasn’t there. People blurred past, too observed in their own affairs to see him standing still in the middle of the walk way. Where did he go? Peter had just opened his mouth to call out when-

“Hey.”

He stopped before he even heard the voice. As busy and hustling the crowd around him was, he knew the voice was for him. Peter took his fists out of his pockets. Neck hairs stood. Everything was telling him to run. _To get the fuck out. Don’t turn around._

He turned around.

He expected the busy street. The men in suits blurring by, holding phones up against their ears while shuffling into a bag. He didn’t expect a woman, half naked in an alley way. New York was a crazy place, but this was just wrong. Peter whipped around, bemused. Passing women in jumpsuits and teens with skateboards didn’t give her a second glance. No one. He turned back around.

Peter focused on her eyes. They looked right into his. Locked on. Familiar eyes. Familiar bangs. Realization smashed down him. Her shirt was ruined, split in around three different places. Her tights had splits all along, and her pencil skirt hung on by a literal thread. Her hair draped over one eye, though sheer enough to see it peering through.

She was the missing woman.

Their eye contact never left when the woman stepped back into the alley, her face suddenly shadowed over. Peter faltered, arm reached out.

“H-hey!” He started. Peter took off. He shoved past everyone he could, muttering huffed apologies as he went. He was in the alley in the matter of seconds, neck craning around.

She stood ahead of him. Clearly, he saw crimson dripping from a cut on her cheek. He took a careful step forward. She was.. surprisingly calm. Her face looked almost content, with her eyes swimming in an emotion he couldn’t place. Peter raised his hands, hovering his mid-section with his palms exposed.

_Should he talk to her? Shit._ “H-hey. Hey, I’m Peter. You’re probably scared. I’ll take you to a police station.” He nodded expectingly.

She said nothing. She continued to stare, her chin tilting to the side. “Peter?” She said. Her voice was light and weightless, like a breath of cold air.

“Y-yeah! Let’s get you somewhere,” Peter took a step forward, arm ready to wrap around her shoulder. _Should Mr. Stark know about this? She was employed at his company. Shit. Is she cold?_ “Do you want my hoodie?” _She’s in shock, Peter. Just give her the damn hoodie._

Her eyes never wavered. Peter bit his lip, arms latched onto the bottom of the hoodie to pull it off. She.. hadn’t blinked this whole time. Her brown eyes sat dully, in comparison to the photo that the press released, in which her eyes shined with her smile.

“Peter Parker.”

_Huh?_

_Did he tell her his last name?_

“Parker? Did Mr. Stark tell you about me? I’m his intern.” Would Mr. Stark tell his employees about him? There’s no way. They’d know he wasn’t an intern. He let his arms drop back to his sides. Something wasn’t right.

“You’re Peter Parker.” She peered into his eyes, her lips forming into a twisted smile. “The mutant. The strong one.”

He couldn’t feel his arms. Chills ran down his body. How could she- She can’t know he was- unless- “You-you work with Mr. Stark? What makes you say that? I’m not- I’m not sure why you’d think that.” Peter involuntarily took a step back, the street behind him seeming much more welcoming now.

She stood patiently. “Wait. I need your help.” Her voice drifted around the area of the narrow crook behind apartment buildings and various trash bins. Help? She’s been missing. Of course she needs help.

“Help? Y-yeah.” Peter mentally smacked himself, “You were missing like three seconds ago. Let’s go?” He held his arm up-the one he couldn’t feel for some reason. He still couldn’t get the feeling of danger to leave. It lingered, like the stench of the back alley.

She shook her head slowly. “We could use each other.” Her voice had a slight chill to it, an edge he couldn’t place. Use each other? Not normal chick dialect. Peter shuffled back, but only slightly. He didn’t exactly know why he wanted to get the fuck out as fast as he could. She just wants help getting to the police station.

“You are what I need.” She stepped forward. Peter noticed, just now, that the woman was barefoot. Her toes laced around broken glass and obvious traced of dirt littered them. Her toe nails were painted bright red, but they were chipped and-

_Was one ripped off?_

Peter choked down some bile. She’s been missing. Who knows what she’s been through. She needs help, not some guy puking on her.

“We need to get you somewhere,” Peter began. “Let’s get you to a hospital.” She’s in shock. That’s why she can’t feel it. That’s why she hasn’t blinked this whole time. That’s why she—

“This woman is plain.”

_What?_

“She isn’t strong.”

_What the—_

“I can’t use her the way she could use me. It’s not... mutual.”

_Get away._

She was suddenly too close. The whites of her eyes were not even a foot ahead of his. What is she talking about?

“You know—“ Peter stumbled over some beer cans while shuffling backwards. “Uh. I gotta go. No idea what a-a mutant is. Never even heard of a—“

She moved faster than he could comprehend. His wrist was in a viper grip. Her fingernails pierced his skin, even with the thick fabric separating them. Blood left his face. His heart had to be visible through his chest. It was hammering too hard for it not to be. He pulled. Nothing.

“Enough games, Peter Parker. We can be strong together. Let us be one.”

_Run._

He couldn’t move. Her grip wouldn’t falter. It was almost like it was made of iron. He pulled once more. She just smiled.

_Jesus_.

Something was coming out of her eyes. His mouth gaped, dread swelling in the pit in his stomach. It was black. It looked like it was latching onto every little surface it could. It spread down her face to her chest.

_Oh, god._ His wrist wouldn’t-fucking-budge. Whatever this thing was, he needed to leave. Right now. This Black was the darkest black he’d ever seen. It almost glistened, like it was slimy. Was it slimy? Did he really want to find out?

_No_.

The grip on his wrist seemed to tighten ten fold. He looked down. The Black was gripping and sticking it’s way along his arm. Oh, shit—

  
He tugged. Harder than anything, he did. Nothing happened. It was climbing so quickly. Impossibly quick. His neck pulsed and sweat dropped from his temple. Terror bubbled to the surface. The substance had reached his neck. It seemed to harden as it went on. It latched onto his cheeks. His mouth. Oh, god.

It had an iron tug on his teeth. It stuck on everything it could. It blocked his airway. He couldn’t breathe. It pulled on his eyes and covered his ears. He could see a slither of the woman’s face. Her eyes were a lighter brown then he had thought.

And-

Terrified.

He was in the library. He heaved the biggest gulp of air he’d ever needed. He could finally fucking _breathe_. Ned sat where he was, with Michelle next to him. They both stared.

“I asked you something. Hey— you okay?” Ned pushed his chair back and stood beside him. “Can you breathe? Dude—“

Peter stuffed his hands in his front pockets. They were shaking. “I’m fine.” Not fine. What just happened? What was that thing? Was that why he couldn’t remember getting here? What happened after? Why didn’t he get h—

_**We’ll tell you.** _

It rung in his ears. A voice deeper than anything he’d ever heard. What the—

_**We were testing to see it you were compatible**_.

Compatible? He swung around. The voice was coming from no where, but all around him.

**_Sometimes, their bones break under the pressure. That woman. She didn’t last very long. You- on the other hand. You’ll last._ **

Peter felt chills all around him. He wanted to ask why it wanted him. He wanted to ask how it got to him. He wanted to ask—

“What the hell are you?”

Both Ned and Michelle froze. “Pete. Are you feeling alright?” Ned placed his palm on his shoulder.

**_You know that already, don’t you?_ **

Yes, he did. How? He didn’t know.

We were Venom. 


	5. Chapter Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Can he tell Ned?

Peter considered himself somewhat independent. He could take care of his own shit, like taking down some crime-lords or lifting a damn parking garage off his back. He didn’t need anyone else with him. So when this thing, was hell bent on staying with him, he had to admit. He was freaked.

He wasn’t just freaked.

He was fucking _terrified_.

The thing spoke to him. Oh, god- It spoke to him through his fucking mind. It’s not anywhere to be seen but it can speak right into his ear. It’s voice— it made his knees weak. Is it normal not to feel your fingers?

“—er? Peter!”

Lanky fingers snapped between his brows. Eyes focusing, Michelle blurred into view. She had a slight furrow to her brows and her hair wasn’t swiped behind her ear, instead it draped over her eye. Peter felt particularly cross eyed. Shaking his head— _oh, shit. That hurt_ — It seemed like the whole decathlon team had peering eyes on him. Flash’s book laid on the table ahead of him. He didn’t look concerned, just— mildly annoyed?

“Is Peter on cocaine?”

_What?_ “Why would I be on cocaine?” Peter wouldn’t want to say he couldn’t breathe without his rib cage crushing his lungs but— damn. His rib cage was crushing his lungs. Along with that, with every breath in, a new pain seemed to emerge. This was what dying felt like. It can’t be anything else.

“Peter? For Christ’s sake—“ He was snapped back, right in the middle of another wonderful stab to the head. _Ned. He needed to speak with Ned._

“Ned? Will you excuse us?” Peter couldn’t bring himself to look up at Harrington. From his locked vision on the floor, the light above seemed to burn through his eyelids. How would that even happen? Without looking at Ned for confirmation, he grabbed his bag and definitely _did not_  run out of the library. He heard Ned shuffle behind him, muttering apologizes in passing.

White tiles reflected light. He figured that out quick, walking down the tiled floors of the school hallways. It would be better off just closing his damn eyes. Better than whatever this was. Running into a wall seemed vaguely comforting right now. _Ned. He needs to speak with Ned._ Peter saw the bathroom door and didn’t wait to hustle in. Ned followed, letting the door slam closed.

That was loud. He almost involuntary pressed the palms of his hands against his ears. He could feel Ned’s pressing stare along the surface of his eyes. “I—I need to talk to you.” He let his hands fall back to his sides. Peter rose his vision to Ned’s face, the bathroom light blaring, like a searing white—hot— knife.

Ned took a step forward, his voice wavering. “Tell me, Peter. I’m freaking out. Was this an anxiety attack? Do you have PTS—“

Peter groaned. Another harsh breath wracked through his ribs. “It’s not—“ He stumbled over his own breath. “It’s not anything like that. Look, Ned. Something happened yesterday.” _Add on another stabbing along his temple._

**_Watch what you tell the human boy._ **

_Oh, god._

“You can’t tell me what I can say!” Peter erupted. Rage bubbled deep within him. He was in control of his own self. How could it tell him what to do? Why was it doing this? He wanted to cry out. He wanted to scream. “You—can’t!” He grabbed the sink with both his hands. His knuckles were turning white. His veins were—

Turning black?

“Peter! Who the hell are you talki—“

Terror cut him off. He couldn’t hear. It was like he was just pushed underwater. It was muted in a mere instant, leaving only murmurs in it’s place. Everything was turning grey. His reflection stared back at him. He saw something—

The whites of his eyes were turning black. Along his cheeks were dark streaks of veins, pulsing and pultruding. Pain was all he felt. Nothing else. The sink below him crumbled in his grip. The porcelain laced his fingers, some of the shards were trapped in his fist. It cut into his flesh.

_**Will you tell the human?** _

It was the simplest question he had ever been asked. The floor beneath him seemed a lot more welcoming than the reflection ahead of him. If this— this pain was what he felt when he defied it then— _why defy?_

_“I_ _won’t!”_

It all stopped. Everything at once. His head felt like it risen out of water. All the sounds were back. The lack of pain was almost uncomfortable compared to what he had just felt a second ago. Never in his life did pain leave him so quickly. He could hear his own ragged breathing, sharp wheezes within the echoing walls of the bathroom.

“—out of it! Peter!”

Peter unclenched his fist, the dust from the sink flowing to the tiles below him. His reflection had no black veins. No black eyes. He had a layer of glistening sweat left in it’s place, plastering his curls against his forehead.

“Peter?”

He looked over at Ned. The white light was comforting now. No searing pains along his head. He stared at it. How could pain leave so fast? Peter blinked, staring at Ned.

“Yes?” His chin tilted to the side.

“You just— crushed the sink.”

_Oh_.

“That’s— unfortunate.” The calm he felt scared him. He couldn’t feel anything. No pain. No emotion.

“You— are you okay? You needed to tell  
me something? You just started screaming to someone and then— _crush_!”

_Tell Ned?_

A sharp pain streaked his forehead.

_No. No, we won’t tell Ned._

“Nothing, Ned. We’re fine.”

With that, he tightened his bag along his shoulder and pushed the bathroom door open, leaving Ned standing alone next to the crushed sink. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is gotten a lot of comments and I’m loving it?? I literally just got this account like yesterday and I’m getting such positive feedback!! I’m reading all the comments and know they all make me so happy like damn,, and also, this is my interpretation of Venom. If it’s not 100% accurate, don’t come at me or anything. Obviously, it’s Venom. It’s gunna fuck things up so stay tuned!!


	6. Chapter Six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Venom might fuck things up for Peter.

Walking home with another voice in your head was an experience Peter hated. He most likely looked like an insane kid, twitching and turning to confront no one. He wasn’t an insane kid. He just—

_Heard a voice in his head._

_Ah, damn._ _Really selling that one._ He let his hands out of his pockets, twisting and fiddling his fingers with each other, just to have somewhere to put them. He could feel sweat trickling down his forehead and onto the tip of his nose. It was frustrating. He could feel everything normally, but this was so much worse. _There’s no pain, is what he told himself. At least there’s no pain. Did that make it okay?_

He would have much preferred the apathy he had felt earlier, but it seemed to dial down the more he walked. All of it came flooding back. He crushed a damn _sink_? He screamed at nothing and then left Ned? Why the hell did he do that?

Why did it hurt him? Weren’t they supposed to be mutual? Peter stuck his finger in the holes littering his sleeve, made by the grip of that woman. After he was— attacked, it all went black. She looked _scared_. Outright terrified, even. Would it let her live after what she saw?

**_The woman? She’s dead. She screamed, so we took our hands and crushed her throat. She would tell. She can’t tell on us. Not when the fun is just beginning._ **

His stomach dropped, dread passing through him in a fail sweep. “She’s dead? That’s impossible!” He found himself yelling, his voice carrying. A passing woman gave him a look. Peter lowered it to a harsh whisper. “I don’t remember that. I didn’t hurt her. There’s no way I’d _hurt_ someone. Not—not an innocent woman.”

He was suddenly too cold. His hoodie did nothing for him. There was no wind, but chills passed, cutting into his face. He didn’t hurt anyone. How could he hurt anyone? He didn’t even _remember_.

“Did you kill her? You’re not lying?” He asked, feeling weak.

**_She’s dead. She lays in the alley still._ **

“God—“ Peter choked out a sob. He ran his hands down his face. He had to tell someone. He had to tell Mr. Stark. A wave of pain shot across the back of his head. Frustration made him almost cry out. “Let me tell someone! I won’t tell him about you. I’ll just— just tell him about the woman. She’s his employee. He needs to know, right?”

No pain flashed this time. “Does that mean I can tell him?” Nothing happened. Ragged breaths and the scuffle of his dragging feet echoed in his ears. No voice.

He fiddled for the phone in his pocket. It emerged in his palm with a new crack in the screen. His thumbs shook while looking for his contact.

_Oh, shit._ What was he going to say? _Hello? There’s a dead woman in an alley and I can’t tell you how I know that. Nice day!_

A robotic voice picked up the phone, telling him to leave a voicemail. No surprise there. He didn’t hang up, though. Waiting until he heard _Happy Hogan,_ hebegan to speak—trying to sound as _not_ possessed by an alien as he could.

“H-happy! I’m calling to—there’s something you need to k-know. There’s— uh. Well— how should I—there’s a dead woman in an alley by my apartment complex.” It all came out too quick and smashed together. _Damnit_.

“I—“ his voice cracked. Tears threatened to flow freely down his cheeks. “Gotta go.”

He looked down at his phone. His hands grew weaker and less steady. His eyes were blurred with tears. _How could she have died? She was the last thing he saw. She wasn’t guilty. She was a victim._

**_I do not understand. She would have had us taken. We did what was right._ **

Peter found himself flinching. “You—“ he pointed at the air in front of him. “You have _no_ right to decide who lives and who dies! You can just kill someone—an innocent woman. Mind you, she wouldn’t have been a _problem_ if you hadn’t fucking possessed her. Or whatever you want to call this.”

He ran his hand through his hair. He was still shaking. He was being controlled by an alien. Was it an alien? Did it matter? It was not human. It was black _slime_ for heavens sake— waves of nausea washed over him.

“You— what are you? What do they call you in that—that alien realm you call home? Are you even an alien? I just assumed you were—“

**_I don’t come from Earth._ **

Why was he talking to this thing again? It shook his brain and it’s voice was just plain creepy. Oh— can it hear him?

Nothing answered him.

He was almost to his apartment complex when it hit him so fast— the wind was knocked out of him. He hadn’t come home yesterday. They were supposed to have that conversation. He was missing—never getting home. Oh, god—

There’s no way she’s not freaking out. There’s no way she’s not lost all the trust she had with him. She thinks he flaked on her. He didn’t! He just— killed someone.

Peter thinks he might puke. She had a family. Did she have a kid? A kid that was waiting for her to come home? He was at the front door before he even had time to mentally prepare. He couldn’t just show up. He couldn’t just enter and not explain. He fiddled with the keys, twisting them until he heard the click. Peter took one giant breath—that didn’t refresh him— and walked in.

No one was there at first. Until he heard a distant crash and heavy footsteps. May turn the corner from the hallway into the living room. Their eyes met. She had been obviously sobbing. Bloodshot eyes with a stricken look met Peter’s. He had no idea what he looked like, but she had to look worse.

“ _Peter_!” May sprinted to him before he could process. Arms engulfed his whole frame in a second, her grip tightening with each racked breath that went through her. “Peter Benjamin Parker. I—I didn’t know what to do.” She let go of him to run her palm down his cheek. She was right in front of his face. Purple bags were under her eyes. “I thought you were gone forever. I didn’t call the police! I thought it was like last time— you were gone but you came back after a few hours but— Oh, _jesus_. I’m just so glad you’re okay.” She slammed her hands on his temples and pulled him in for a kiss on the forehead.

The guilt he felt never faltered. “May, I—I didn’t flake on you. I didn’t—“ Waves of searing pain sparked along his head. He bit the inside of his cheek, grimacing. “I didn’t come home because I was _freaking poss_ —“

Pain unlike he had ever felt crashed down on him. It was like a freight train smashed onto him, but he somehow lived. Not just his head, his whole damn body was on fire. He screamed, falling with his hair in his fists. All noise was drowned out, but he heard May faintly. Was she yelling? He couldn’t tell.

_**Do not tell the human.** _

He needed to tell her. He can’t live like this. He was powerless—nothing, compared to this thing. He wasn’t sure he could speak. If he could, he couldn’t hear it himself. He had to tell May. He needed to.

“ _Call—Ah! Mr. Stark!”_

With that, he only saw black. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m honestly not happy with my writing in this chapter, but I have something in mind for the plot!!! I’m so excited so—
> 
> Stay tuned


	7. Chapter Seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony comes face to face with Venom.

Peter didn’t pass out. He really, _really_ wished he had, but the faint pounding in his head reminded him of his conscious form. He only saw darkness. He squeezed his eyes shut and opened them. His eyes opened and closed freely, but still, he saw nothing. It was almost like—

Shit.

It had wrapped itself around him. Peter tried wiggling his fingers. Nothing moved. He couldn’t bend his knees, or even open his jaw. He was trapped. Panic set in. He couldn’t fucking move. He was stuck—in this thing. An alien. He was stuck in an alien. Harsh, ragged breaths hit the thing surrounding him and odd squelching noises echoed around him. He willed himself not to hyperventilate. This thing, the last time it was out—it killed someone. An innocent woman—

May. She was the last thing he saw. She was with this thing. She wasn’t safe. His breaths sped, all his emotions acting as a catalyst. He still couldn’t move. It stuck onto him, clinging on like a lifeline. It wasn’t moving, from what he could feel. This wouldn’t be pretty.

...

  
Tony got the call around two in the afternoon. He usually was working on something in his garage, listening to voicemails or angry calls from press conferences he may have never showed up for. He had some good reasons—

_Well, maybe he didn’t._

He twisted a wrench, tightening some screws. He wasn’t exactly sure what he was going for, maybe an arm? He cocked his head to the side. Maybe a leg? Tony only sighed and let the tool slip out of his hands, onto the floor.

“You’re late for _seven_ —!”

He tuned his ears out. Did it really matter? He’s been to too many conferences in his life. A few can wait. He wiped his brow. He probably needed a drink.

“Tony— the kid—!”

 _Pause. Rewind._ The kid? Tony had really thought after the whole Vulture fiasco, Pete would go off the radar for a little while. Maybe it was another daily report that Happy wanted him to know about. Tony still leaned in to hear the message clearly.

“He said something about some dead person. By his apartment— in an alley? Just– call me back.”

He rose his brows. Robbing gone wrong? Despite that presumption, worry crept on him. _Did Pete find the body?_ That’s enough to scar a kid. Right? Yeah— _yeah_. That’d scar him. Before Tony even thought about checking up on the kid, another voicemail began.

“Stark? This—this is May. You n-need to get here quick. I-I have no idea what’s happening. I was t-talking to Peter, then he was just on the ground! I went into the bathroom. I didn’t know what to do! Just, help! Please, I need—“ Crashes played distantly, and she gasped. “Please—“

The line cut out abruptly.

“ _Shit_ — Get the suit!”

...

May knew it wasn’t Peter. It was surrounding him, devouring his entire body— but it wasn’t Peter. So that’s why she didn’t blame him when she was knocked back against the bathroom mirror. She could feel her head split against the cracks it created, leaving drops of blood smoothing down her neck.

She tried not to scream, but a weak gasp escaped her. She landed in a heap on the floor, her head resting on her limp arm. She couldn’t get up. Another flash of black lashed her cheek like a whip. Glass was shattered all around her. She looked in the hundreds of reflections it echoed of this thing.

It had so many teeth. It’s mouth was too large, but still didn’t fit the length of this things teeth. Sharp and white, saliva strung off them. It’s tongue— _jesus_ , this thing’s tongue had to be a whole foot long, reaching far beyond it’s gapping mouth. It whipped around, licking the air or lacing along it’s own teeth, twisting the spit along every tooth. Not to mention, it was fucking _huge_. It stood seven feet tall, towering over her with a venom she couldn’t explain. It wasn’t from here.

Before even beginning to fathom what was in front of her, fingers laced around her throat. It pulled up, mounting her against the bathroom wall, her windpipe denting. It crooked it’s head, tongue hanging down below it’s chin.

“Human.”

Chills sprung down her spine. It’s voice— _jesus_ , it could speak— was heavy and somewhat grainy. It echoed in the enclosed space. May forced her eyes to look into it’s face.

“You know of us. We don’t want that.” It’s slimy grip only tightened. Wheezes left her. “Peter doesn’t like this. I know what’s best for us. He will learn. In time. We need each other. I make him strong. Others cower. It’s... life.”

Blue lingered in her face. The need for more air was torture. “Y-you— Peter? If you can h—“

The hand latched and squeezed harder than ever. Her last straw of air was cut off. She kicked her legs.

“He can’t hear you. He can’t do anything. It’s for his own good. He doesn’t understand yet. We will be better. Together.”

She flailed wildly, desperate for any type of air. Her eyes almost widened to the point of pain. Black pixels fixed the edges of her vision. Peter.

The sound of shattering glass shook her. The thing swung it’s head to the side, looking outside the bathroom door into the living room. Tony Stark— in his Iron Man suit— stood amongst shards of the now destroyed window behind him. He looked around quickly. His eyes landed on them.

“Hey—! Mr. Goo? Can we not choke people?” May wheezed, kicking her legs. It snarled before letting her go, leaving her limp on the floor. Tony let out a shook breath, slowly advancing.

“Stark. We know about you.” It reached up, finger tips clinging onto the ceiling and pulling up. It began to crawl towards him on all fours. “He has memories that we share. “

“Sorry— is this whole _speaking in first person_ _plural_ a villain thing? Does it add to the gig?” Tony asked, his voice slightly robotic under the suit. He crooked his neck. Peter was no where to be seen.

“We are Venom.” It stopped just ahead of him, saliva dripping onto the wooden floors below. Tony stood ground, his arm raised.

“Peter? Pete!” Tony called out, eyes still stuck to the thing—Venom. “Is he okay? Where the hell is he? What’ve you done to him?” His composure seemed to be melting off.

“We are here.”

“No— not you. Wait your turn. Pete!” Tony called out once more. Dread crept into the pit in his stomach. _Was he— jesus, Tony. Don’t think that._

“You’re wrong, Stark. The boy is us.” Venom curled his mouth into a— _smile? Definitely a smirk. An evil smirk? Really?_ “You’ll understand in time. He is me. He is us.”

“Enough with the cryptic sh—“

Venom opened it’s mouth and let out a blood hurtling scream, so high pitched and shaky that Tony dropped his arms to his sides. His eyes screwed shut. The sound left pressure on his head. It moved _so_ fast. It dropped down and leaped into the hole Tony made while crashing into the window. Just like that, it was gone.

“Let me out!” The suit cracked open. Tony came scrambling out, his legs already working towards May. She was still on the floor, unmoving. His hand shook, reaching out and pressing down on her neck. Only his shattered breathes were heard. He felt a small bump of a heart beat.

“Jesus.” He slumped down. She was just passed out. He ran a palm down his face. Peter was missing. Peter wasn’t safe. There’s an alien on the loose. A psycho alien. May could tell him what happened. He looked over again. She still laid limp. “Okay. Okay, let’s go.”

He resting his hands in his knees and pushed up. He needed to get back into the suit and take her to medical. She could tell him what happened 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m soooo sorry for not updating!!! I have so much planned for this and thank you for the support! I’m so motivated from them. Thank you again and I’ll see you all next chapter. 
> 
> -also, though i read this multiple times to check for errors, if there is some, I’m really sorry!


	8. Chapter Eight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter might be a tad confused, but so is Michelle.
> 
> \- If you saw like 4 chapter eights, I’m so sorry,, my WiFi was shit and posted a lot i don’t even know what happened but enjoy the chapter :)

Fighting crime leaves Peter in certain uncomfortable situations. He’s woken up in a few dumpsters, dazed and confused. He once webbed up his own arm and had to wait hours for it to dissolve on it’s own. It left him thinking of new solutions to problems that could happen. He’d ask Karen what happened if he awoke next to a homeless dudes foot. He manufactured a liquid that could dissolve the web. He was someone who knew how to fix a problem.

That why when he woke up next to a dead rat on the concrete, he was confused. Peter’s muscles felt like absolute _shit_. It’s like he bent them in every way he shouldn’t be—and more. His mind had a thick fog that made it impossible to put together a coherent thought. He only looked around, his weight shifting off the gravely cement his back was laid on.

An abandoned car was parked a few feet ahead of him. It had collected a fine layer of dust, leaving a sheen of musty grey along it. Empty beer cans and pizza boxes were grimly thrown about. There was a cement roof ahead and parking spots all around him. A parking garage. Peter mentally smacked himself. It’s a parking garage. It shouldn’t have taken that long to figure out.

He looked down, expecting to see red and blue. In these situations, it’s normally a mugging gone wrong. Someone probably got the jump on him. He didn’t see red and blue. He saw a sweater vest. Peter turned his forearms and pulled his sleeves up, half expecting to see the suit under the layers of clothes. Just flesh.

He looked closer. _Dirty_ flesh. Peter was always known not to be the tannest person, so the fresh dirt and grim that ran all along his arms was blazingly noticeable. That’s not what freaked him out the most. The veins on his forearms were usually a pale blue, fading as it ran up into the crook in his elbow. As he looked down, his veins were black. They weren’t just black. They seemed to pulse, connecting to veins Peter never knew existed. Little ones connected to big ones, some grey while others jet black.

Peter could feel something drop in his chest. He frantically looked around. He last remembered ... _Venom_. The fog that masked his thinking began to fade. Everything came back to him. With a strangled gasp, he jumped onto his legs. His jeans had new rips in the knees and the shoulder of his vest was slit. His throat was raw, letting in what felt like morning air diluted with the cramped parking garage smell.

Morning light shined down all around him from an opening ahead of him. It shined light on his surroundings and highlighted the dust in the air. He was going to tell May. He wracked his brains. He ... wouldn’t let him. New frustrations bubbled up, pushing down the panic and confusion.

“Talk to me! What did you do?” Peter screamed. His aggressive tone echoed all around him, bouncing off the alcohol bottles and tires. Nothing responded. “ _TELL ME_!”

Little repeats of his outbreak were his only responses. Peter rounded his feet and swung his foot at a beer can. It flew, smacking off the cement wall and denting it. He glared at the circular imprint, mumbling curses under his breath.

“You—“ He pointed at the wall. “You did this! Everything was fine until you showed up. I was fine. I—was—fine! You need me! I will never need you. _EVER_!” He advanced, raising his fist. He blinked and faltered. He was talking to a wall. Peter let his hand fall to his side. He must look like a crackhead. Someone he would see on the street and feel bad for.

“What the hell am I doing?” Peter murmured, pulling his face down with his palms, which were no doubt much dirtier than the rest of him. His fingers had small cuts, leaking blood in minuscule amounts. He didn’t want to know what he looked like.

He wished Venom would just answer him. _Ask him what happened with May. What he didn’t do. What he did._ Peter waited, the sounds of scurrying rats pattering around him. Nothing. Did it take deals? Agreements? Peter bit his cheek. He’d think about all that later. For all he knew, he was Peter right now. _Only_ Peter.

He felt along his jeans for his phone, but didn’t have much luck. Pay phones existed. Peter almost laughed. Did anyone memorize numbers anymore? His smile slipped off. Even if he wanted to call and knew May’s number, he didn’t have change. Knowing places like this, he’d probably find a few quarters fairly easily, but the sound of birds chirping from the inside and the white poop all around him, he decided not to put his hands anywhere near it.

He needed to know where he was, at least. He might be able to walk back, hopefully only getting a few stares on his way. Peter advanced down to where the sun shined into the garage. It was a ledge. It fell maybe three stories. Peter whistled. There’s no way this passes safety guidelines. In the distance, he saw a faint blur of the hustling streets and morning drivers. He knew that intersection. It led to his school, connecting to the train. At least he knew where he was.

He took another weary look down the ledge. He could make the jump normally—just now, Peter wasn’t sure his knees could stable his landing. There was no time to be scared. Peter lathered up a few breaths, taking large steps back in preparation. He twitched his chin to the side quickly.

“No time to think.” With that, Peter took one powerful stride and leaped into the air. The stable cemented floor never returned when he began to fall down. The fall was quick, but with a slash of cold air rushing to his cheeks, he landed on his feet. Though, the force made him tumble forward. His forearm flew out before him, connecting to the glass. Small aches in his legs and arms followed. Nothing was broken. He could still feel his legs. That’s always a good sign. He slowly pulled himself up.

“Wanna speak up now?” Peter threw out. Birds chirped. He shook his head, cursing. The only way to figure out what happened is to get home.

...

Stares were nothing Peter was used to. As Spider-Man, he was usually going too fast for anyone to really stare at. Sometimes he’d stand for a little, writing notes to stick on some bad-guys he’d wrapped up and get points from children holding their mother’s hand and the usual chant of ‘Hey, Spider-Man!’ For the most part, no one payed much attention to Peter Parker. He didn’t expect people to. He was just like everyone else walking down the busy sidewalk. Everyone had somewhere to be. Their focus was on themselves.

Peter got his sixth stare. They weren’t nasty stares—well, most of them. He was obviously obscenely dirty. He’d got a reproachful glare from a white woman in her late fifties, handbag tightening as he shuffled past. The rest were concerned glances, eyes lingering for a second too long. A kid covered in dirt, looking like who knows what walking the streets of New York wasn’t really all that uncommon. Drug addicts were notorious for it, but Peter _just_ didn’t look like a druggie. He was equip with a polo shirt and blue sweater vest. Jeans that only had rips where they would tear if he had been roughed up.

After his seventh stare from a woman about the same stature of Aunt May, he felt his last ounce of composure slip off him. He sped up, knocking past business men and kicking briefcases on accident in his hurry. He was almost at a street he knew of. It was close. He hurried, feet scurrying and almost scraping off the cement below, rubbing against the soles of his shoes.

“Wo— Parker? Hey— _Peter!_ ”

Peter slammed the heel of his shoe into the ground, forcing himself to halt. The last person he shoved past, pushing their elbow out of his path happened to be Michelle Jones. She held grocery bags in the crooks of her elbows and stared straight into Peter’s eyes, almost offended. That quickly faded into worry, her eyes surveying him up and down, taking in his obviously distressed form. Michelle looked up, her head tilted and her eyes glinting in uneasy concern.

“You look— _holy shit._ You look terrible.” She glided forwards, gaze shifting to all areas of his face. Her hand raised to his cheek and hovered. “Can’t you feel this? Peter, this looks like it needs snitches. What the hell happened?”

Peter furrowed his brows and raised a shaky hand to his cheek. It emerged with a fresh coat of crimson lathered onto his finger tips. How’d he not feel that? Peter could now feel the small drips of blood sliding down his cheek and onto the collar of his shirt. Michelle’s hand was now placed on his shoulder, hovering slightly as if she had afraid one touch would injure him. He wasn’t used to her showing much of anything, not even much praise as the decathlon leader.

“Let’s go. I’m going home right now. You need something for that cut.” Michelle bit the side of her cheek quite obviously.

_Venom. He can’t let him go anywhere near Michelle. He’d kill her. He’d do what he did to May. He’d blackout and—_

“Come on, Peter.” Michelle rubbed her thumb on his shoulder slightly.

_He couldn’t. She’d die. It would attack her. His chest rose and fell quickly. He couldn’t let it kill her. We can’t kill her. She needs to live._

“Peter?”

Black spots poured in from the side of his vision. It wasn’t the same from when Venom took over. He’d got this from staying up too late and getting up too fast. Why was it happening now? Without a second to spare, his knees gave out. He felt himself connect with something cold. He heard a sharp gasp among the muted conversations around him. He was gone.

...

“— _all_ over the couch!”

“I couldn’t just—“

Peter heard bits of chopped up voices. They didn’t make much sense. He just knew how much he ached. Every joint pinged in unnecessary pain. He craned his eyes apart. Michelle stood just ahead of Peter, her back facing him. She seemed to be flailing some gauze and rubbing alcohol in her fists somewhat aggressively.

“You expected me just to leave him on the streets? He’s bleeding, Dad! That’s what hurt people do—“

“You know I didn’t mean it like that, M.J! Calling an ambulance would have been a smart choice—“

“I’m getting there. Just let me help! You always tell me to—“

Peter tried to tune it out. Every word dug another nail into his skull. From what he heard, he hadn’t went batshit on them. Michelle was still alive. It hadn’t hurt her. The lights around him didn’t seem as bright as they did when he first came to.

“M-Michelle?” Peter grunted out. He rose his hand to the side of his face in an attempt to rub his temple.

“Woah— _woah_ , buddy. Don’t do that.” She whipped out an arm and latched onto his wrist. Peter had the audacity to look offended. “Don’t give me that look. Have you even seen yourself? You’re bleeding all over the couch.” She wasn’t scolding. She was just being as blunt as usual, but there was underlying concern under all that.

“I’m sorry,” Peter said genuinely. She let go of his wrist suddenly, afraid she’d caused any pain. He glanced around. He was rested on a leather couch, his feet still limp ahead of him. Around him looked like a standard living room, with a television in front of the room with a coffee table, holding a few mugs. He really was bleeding all over the couch. “God— I’m really sorry. I’ll go—“ Peter made a move to get up, but a palm pushed his chest back down into the couch.

“You need to get something on that cut. I have some gauze and—“ Michelle rose the rubbing alcohol in her fist. “It’s going to hurt.” She poured some rubbing alcohol on the gauze and hovered her hand around his cheek. “Trust me. I used to play soccer. Using this sh— _stuff_ on my scrapes hurt like hell. You ready?”  
  
Peter wanted to tell her it would be fine. He couldn’t even feel the cut anymore, but the blood was starting to crust. He needed to tell her May needs his help, or that he might have killed his aunt. He didn’t need someone to take care of his wounds. _May—_

Without waiting for a response, Michelle set the gauze straight on the cut. Peter didn’t feel a thing. Michelle started to rub away some of the blood that moistened up from the liquid. She rubbed some more, leaning closer every time.

“Peter... you okay?” Michelle asked. She had a strange expression plastered on. The gauze sat in her hand, blood stained. Peter nodded in response, somewhat impatiently. He didn’t have time for this.

Michelle looked back up to Peter. She looked bewildered. He had never seen Michelle Jones look bewildered, just always knowing and somewhat apathetic to everything around her. “Th..this—Peter, your cut is—it’s _gone_. There’s nothing there.” She tried rubbing more harshly. Bare skin laid underneath the dried blood. Not even a scar.

Peter almost jumped up right then and there. His hand flew to his cheek, eyes widening. “You must be seeing things. Or—not seeing things.” He stood up to see a somewhat tall dark-skinned man standing behind Michelle. He peered at Peter as well. “Thank you for helping me. I—I’ve got to go. It’s a real help.” _It really wasn’t. He had wasted time. May could be dead._ Michelle leaped up, still clutching onto the gauze.

“Peter—wait! What happened? Can you tell me that?” Michelle looked so desperate. More emotions on her face than Peter had ever seen. He really didn’t know she could be so expressive. Her eyes seemed to swim in concern, which only confused him more. Why did she even care so much? It’s not like Ned brought him in. This is _Michelle_.

“I—I really don’t know,” Peter finally answered. This answer didn’t seem to lessen  her concern. He started backing up to what looked like a front door. “I need to go.” With that, he clung onto the handle and pulled. It broke in his hands. Peter almost screamed. He just broke Michelle Jones’s door. He heard her father yell something behind him. Peter looked up. The door was open now, at least. He shot out of the house, leaving both Michelle and her dad staring at the handle.

“It was completely ripped out.” Michelle bent down to pick the knob up and looked back towards the outside. She looked closer. The metal door knob had finger sized imprints from where Peter had clutched it. “What the hell?”

Michelle’s father stalked up behind her, eyes ballooning at the sight. “What kind of friends do you have, M.J?”

Michelle felt a small chill down her spine. “I—I don’t really know.” She clutched onto the knob tightly, staring at the broken hinge of the doorframe. Something was going on. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am actually kind of proud of this chapter. The end gets a little rocky but I’m super proud of the beginning! I read through this many times but if there are mistakes, I apologize! 
> 
> Thank you so much for the comments omg?? They are what got me writing this chapter so soon. Thank you all so much for supporting this!


	9. Chapter Nine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> so short,,, I APOLOGIZE FOR THIS

Peter expected getting into the apartment complex go to smoothly. He’d run in, get a lump some of stares while thumping down the halls and swing open the door. It obviously hadn’t been that easy. For starters, there was a fucking _hole_ in the wall where the window used to be. Peter stood on the sidewalk, the entrance to the complex not even yards away. His heart hammered in his ears, pounding blood and pumping whatever veins were popping out on his neck.

He collected the usual stares, but accompanied with a massive hole in a wall on a busy street took some of the heat off him. People in passing whipped out their phones for a quick picture, hushing theories to their friends or concerned glances. He could hear it all, though shrouded by the honks of taxi cars and the foot steps all around him.

“—said Iron-Man did it. Just flew right in—“

“Did you see that thing? I-I’m scared, honestly— _stop, don’t laugh_ —“

“—video of it, obviously. Black alien thing just booking it out the window—“

“You don’t think it’s another attack, do you? Don’t aliens have other planets to fuck up? Did you even _read_ my blog—“

“—eyes on the kid. He looks really—Tony, he looks bad. Should I—yeah, yeah. I got it—“

_Happy?_

“He— _jesus_ , Tony! What did you say happened again? _Ah—_ yeah. Yeah, I kn— _sorry_ , I’ll get him quick.”

**_Don’t even think about it._ **

Peter almost jumped out of his skin. “N-now, you show?” Heart hammering into his ribs, he placed his palm over his heart.

**_We can’t go with this human._ **

Peter let his hand fall. His limbs fell almost completely numb. “ _You_ —we need to talk.” Peter flashed his eyes around, looking for any sign of Happy advancing on him. “Whatever happened with May—I just need you to promise me something,” he continued.

**_Promise?_ **

“Yes. You said this was mutual, right? Something we could both benefit off of? Well, I haven’t been getting much from you besides probably _killing_ —“ Peter stopped, heart in his stomach. “It doesn’t matter right now. Happy would probably know what happened anyway,” he added, hushed. “Promise me this. You can’t just hurt people. You can’t just hurt the people I love. They are _innocent_. You know what that means? They didn’t do anything to you. So tell me, if you want to stay with me and have this thing mutual, you won’t hurt the people I love. Or else, this isn’t as mutual as you say it is.”

**_This is the only thing you want? We can’t harm ones that are loved? I don’t understand. We can do whatever we want._ **

“You’re with _ME!_ You do what _I_ say!” Peter outright screamed, pointing at his own chest. People hurried past him, sharing glances with their friends. Dread coursed through his veins— _were they still black?_ “I just yelled at an alien— _shit_. _Uh_ —just listen to what I need to say for a change, Mr. Venom. Just— _please_ —“

“Pete!”

**_Fine. We won’t harm this human you care for, but we will do what we need if the time comes. We are free here_.**

“Pete?”

Peter blinked slowly, hands dropping to his sides. His eyes focused ahead of him, showing a black suit. No—no, it was Happy. He stood in front of him, hands hovering just over Peter’s shoulders. His eyes looked—

Scared. _For him?_

“Come on. Let’s go.” Peter nodded curtly, wrapping his hand around Happy’s outstretched one.

_He was safe._

He heard Venom chuckle in the back of his mind. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ve had a busy month and blah blah, no one actually cares BUT I decided to put up this really short/half chapter mess because I don’t have the creativity right now to finish it. I’ll obviously finish this story soon and once I get past this stupid ass writing block, regular updates will commence:)


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